


flight lessons

by ignitesthestars



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Forehead Kisses, Injury, Romance, Serious Injuries, nothing a little bacta can't fix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9276590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignitesthestars/pseuds/ignitesthestars
Summary: “One hundred percent of the crashes I have experienced involved you, Jyn Erso.” K2 informs her pleasantly. “Given that no other flight experience I've been involved in has experienced an abrupt descent, I can only conclude that you - oh. You're bleeding."Or, Jyn is slightly impaled and Cassian sees to her wound. Emotions are had.





	

Jyn hurts.

This, she thinks dazedly, is unsurprising. Considering that she’s just been slightly impaled.

“Do we - have to crash so often?” she groans, and then immediately shuts up because it turns out that talking when you've got an inch of duralloy through your lower torso is easier said than done.

“One hundred percent of the crashes I have experienced involved you, Jyn Erso.” K2 informs her pleasantly. “Given that no other flight experience I've been involved in has experienced an abrupt descent, I can only conclude that you - oh. You're bleeding."

Jyn gives him the most sarcastic thumbs up she can manage in the circumstances, which still manages to shift the duralloy. She must black out for a second or two, because when she blinks, Cassian is there.

“Hi,” she says, shakily scanning him for his own injuries. There's a nasty scrape down the side of his face, but the clench of his jaw seems to be more about the position she’s in than any pain he’s experiencing. “I’m getting you flight lessons for your birthday.”

Not that he’d make it obvious.

“And that will make TIE fighters stop shooting at us, will it?” He’s already shrugging out of his jacket, his shirt following. Jyn, unfortunately, is too dizzy to appreciate. “Kay, bacta patches.”

“The chances of survival--”

“ _Kay._ ”

Jyn snorts, head lolling back on her shoulders. There’s a warm wetness spreading at her pelvis, but not as much as she might have thought for having a hole punched in her. 

“If I’d known this was what it took to get your shirt off, I might have tried it sooner.”

“I would prefer it if you simply asked,” he mutters, arranging his shirt around the whatever-it-is sticking out of her. “This will hurt.”

“Already hurts,” she says, and then sucks in a sharp gasp through her teeth as Cassian drops a tonne of plasteel on her hip.

His hands, she realises after another few seconds of black, putting pressure on the wound. Some distant, garbled knowledge pokes at her head, half-remembered from her days with Saw Gerrera.

“Isn’t that supposed to stay in?”

His eyes are even darker than usual when they meet hers, but the rest of his expression remains steady. Not - comforting, except for air of control he gives off, but stable. She wants to kiss him for it. 

She wants to kiss him for a lot of things. Now probably isn’t the time.

“It’s supposed to stay in when there is a proper medic or doctor available to take it out.” 

“Ah,” she says, and the breath turns into a shriek of agony as white-hot pain lances through her body, and really, dying doesn’t seem like all that bad of an option right now. Except for the part where it will probably piss off Cassian and make K2 happy, and there’s a lot that Jyn is willing to do just to ruin that droid’s day.

“Bacta.”

Cassian’s voice is cranked tight enough that the droid doesn’t even grumble about it. There’s a rustling sound somewhere beyond the sharp in-and-out of her own breathing, and that heavy pressure abates for a brief second as he covers the wound with the bacta patch before holding his shirt against it again.

He’s watching his work, which is probably a good thing. Jyn fumbles with her hand for - for something, she doesn’t know what until his red-stained fingers are clutching hers and she finds she can close her eyes for a second, a relieved sob breaking past her lips.

“You’ll be fine,” he says softly, not relenting on the wound at all. “You’re going to be okay.”

She squeezes his hand with whatever strength she has left. The world is a hazy thing of sparking ship parts and pain, the crown of his head the only thing remotely in focus.

“You - talkin’ to me, or - y’rself?” she slurs, and holds herself together for long enough to see his face as he lifts it, long enough to see that controlled mask slip of his into something like terror as her grip on consciousness slowly unclenches.

*

Jyn is very, very wet.

Her body starts, a vague concern regarding just how much blood she’s lost taking her by the throat before the rest of her awareness floods in. The beeping. The white. The arms around her, strong and steady, keeping her upright as gravity reasserts itself on her body.

They’re back at the base. Jyn knows this, because the look on Cassian’s face looks nothing like her memory of it. Worry, sure, but none of that naked fear.

She’s glad.

“Can’t believe I missed it,” she murmurs, letting her body sag into him. He leads her away from the bacta tank, supporting approximately three-quarters of her weight.

“...Missed what?” There’s a mix of curiosity and caution in his tone that is honestly delightful. Like he’s preparing himself to groan, but wants to know what she has to say anyway.

Jyn lets him set her down, accepts the blanket he passes over to her. A medic droid hovers nearby, but she bats it away. This - Cassian - is more important.

“Whatever the hell it is you did to get us back here.”

He snorts, lowering himself next to her. A second or two has their hands finding each other again - his clean, hers not clutching quite so hard. His thumb rubs over damp skin, and Jyn allows herself a quiet pleasure in the sensation a direct counterpoint the the dull throb the wound at her gut has turned into.

“Let’s just say I had motivation,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Like it’s nothing. 

Or maybe like it’s everything. Any remaining tension runs out of Jyn’s frame, and she slides sideways until her head comes to rest against his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure there was a betting pool on when you were going to do that.”

“Oh, I know.” His lips, gentle against her skin, are the most soothing thing she can think of right now. “But the money for today was on you doing it, not me.”

Very slowly, mustering what little energy she has available to her after an ordeal of injury and healing, Jyn lifts her free hand and socks Cassian in the chest.


End file.
